32O MY COUNTRY AND MY PEOPLE some special vinegar from Ghinkiang and a real Nanking salted duck from Laoyuchai," or this, "This is the end of June, and if you don't come, you won't taste another shad till next May." Long before the autumn moon rises, a real scholar, like Li Liweng as he himself confesses, would plan and save money for the crabs, decide upon an historical place where he could have the crab dinner with his friends under the mid-autumn moon or in a wilderness of chrysanthemums, negotiate with some of his friends to bring wine from Governor Tuan Fang's cellar, and meditate upon it as the English meditate upon their champion sweepstakes number. Only in this spirit can the matter of feeding ourselves be elevated into the level of an art. We are unashamed of our eating. We have "Su Tungp'o pork" and "Kiang bean-curd.** In England, a Wordsworth steak or Galsworthy cutlet would be unimaginable. Words- worth sang about "simple living and high thinking," but he failed to note that good food, especially fresh-cut bamboo- shoots and mushrooms, counts among the real joys of a simple rural life. The Chinese poets, with a more utilitarian philo- sophy, have frankly sung about the "minced perch and shun- vegetable soup" of their native home. This thought is regarded as so poetic that officials in their petition for resignation will say that they are "thinking of $Attn-vegetable" as a most elegant expression* Actually our love of fatherland is largely a matter of recollection of the keen sensual pleasures of our childhood* The loyalty to Uncle Sam is the loyalty to American dough- nuts, and the loyalty to the Vaterland is the loyalty to Pfam- kuffhen and StoUmy but the Americans and the Germans will not admit it. Many Americans, while abroad, sigh for their ham and sweet potatoes at home, but they will not admit that this makes them think of home, nor will they put it in their poetry.1 The seriousness with which we regard eating can be shown in many ways. Anyone who opens the pages of the Red Chamber Dream or of any Chinese novel will be struck by the detailed and constant descriptions of the entire menu of what Taiyii * A striking fact is the frequency of words like "intestines*' and "belly" in Chinese poetry: e.£., "Tfce bamboo-shoots are fresh and my rice-bowl is too small; the fish is delicious, and my wine-intestines widen/'